She pointed to the other side of the street. “Then I’ll tell them to walk around the house.”
“Yes.” He still didn’t move.
She smiled, and he didn’t care anymore about his poor looks. “I hope it helps. Good night, Lord Tristan.” She bowed her head and walked to the carriage.
“Good night.”
In a daze, he closed the door and crossed the hallway.
Father came out of the drawing room. “Who was it?”
He hesitated before speaking. Hunger had played tricks on him in the past weeks. Maybe what had just happened wasn’t real. “Lady Effie, the daughter of the Earl of Winchester, asked me to open the servants’ entrance so her footmen could deliver something for us.”
Harris didn’t need to hear more. He made a dash for the rear door.
Tristan was about to run down the stairs as well when Father took his arm.
“Why? Did you see Winchester?” Father narrowed his eyes to slits.
“I met him by chance when I was walking home.” He was glad the semidarkness hid his face, or Father would understand he was lying. “He asked me how we were faring.”
“Did he now?”
“Let me go, Father.” He slid out of Father’s grip and rushed downstairs.
When he stepped into the anteroom to the kitchen, the two footmen were already there next to an astonished Harris. They didn’t speak, and he was grateful for that because the shock had taken control of his ability to talk.
The small gift consisted of crates of potatoes, apples, salted meat, and potted vegetables. The footmen carried everything quickly and efficiently in the anteroom and left, bowing, as no one had bowed to him in a while. Harris closed the door, muttering something.
Tristan stood in front of a rich feast.
Emotion thickened his throat, and his stomach groaned.
Father came down as well. He stared at the crates, walking around them. Hopefully, he wouldn’t decide to send the gift back to the earl. Tristan wouldn’t starve because his father was too proud to accept help.
“Blimey.” Father scratched his beard.
“The earl was generous.” He waited, ready to argue in case Father complained.
They stared at each other across the room, both tense and determined.
Harris cleared his throat. “I shall store everything in the pantry and the larder, my lord, before the food gets spoilt.”
Father slouched his posture. “Let’s start then. We don’t want to waste anything.”
Tristan exhaled in relief.
His first thought when he opened the parcel with salted meat was that he hadn’t thanked Lady Effie.
